Come Away With Me
by The Good Girl
Summary: She was like a breath of the freshest air. And luckily, George was drowning. A Luna/George fic set after DH.


Author's Note: Oh dear. This is my very first George/Luna fic and only my third ever Harry Potter fic. I've taken a bit of a hiatus from the fanfiction world, but I've recently reread Deathly Hallows and am working my way through rereading GoF, OoTP, HBP & DH (again) and I really, really love Luna. So much, and sadly there is just not enough fiction out there! And I simply _adore_ George…so, yup, here it is.

Mind you, I'm not pleased with how it turned out. And Luna is an EXTREMELY hard character to capture. It's nearly impossible to write her dreamy air without making her flakey or silly. Because I genuinely believe she is extremely clever and one of the bravest women in the books. So please, all constructive criticism is welcomed!!! Let me know what you think of my very first go at a Luna/George fic.

Thank you!

-o-

To say she was nervous would be a definite overstatement. Luna Lovegood did not get _nervous._ The fluttering in her belly, the wiggling of her toes beneath her stockings and boots, all of these little fancies did not equate to her being nervous. Excitement buzzed in the fiber of her bones and Luna simply smiled at Ginny Weasley, who did in fact look quite nervous.

"If one of my brothers bothers you," Ginny was saying, gripping her bag in one hand as they stepped off the Hogwarts Express to the platform at King's Cross Station. "Tell me and I'll hex them all the way to Scotland. Got that?"

Luna gazed serenely at Ginny, adjusting her butterbeer cork necklace. "Oh that's nice of you to say Ginny," Luna commented, watching her breath dance in the December air. "But your brothers are quite kind. I'll just avoid Ron when he's hungry, because that's really the only time he's ever mean."

Ginny just snorted, her eyes flittering around the crowd. "Yes, that sounds like a good plan. Although it'll still be fun to hex him anyway. Even if it's Christmas."

Luna fingered her necklace lovingly, calmly standing beside the vibrant redhead whom Luna considered her best friend. In the months following the battle of Hogwarts and the defeat of Lord Voldemort, Ginny Weasley hand changed quite a bit. While she was always known to be fiery and independent, now there was a kind of subdued melancholy about her that Luna picked up on. Then again, Luna mused, as Ginny continued to look for Ron who had promised to meet them at the station and accompany them back to the Burrow, there was a subdued melancholy over almost just about every witch and wizard who had survived the Battle of Hogwarts and lived to see the destruction of Lord Voldemort.

Nothing was the same, really when you thought about it. It had been just over sixth months since the battle, and while there was a sense of celebration for the final defeat of the Dark Lord, mostly people were attempting to go about putting their lives back together. Grief settled in like a well-worn sweater, as mothers mourned the loss of children, brothers the loss of sisters, wives now widowed, and friends now alone. It was an odd feeling, Luna thought, to see others experience loneliness. She had been quite accustomed to it herself, but to see those around her go through such a time of darkness was quite sad if she was being honest (and Luna Lovegood was, if anything, _always _honest.)

"He should've been here by now," Ginny commented, tucking a lock of red hair behind her ears. "I swear, Ron'll be late to his own wedding."

"Oh!" Luna exclaimed, turning to Ginny with bright eyes. "Is he getting married to Hermione already? A wedding would be lovely…it's been so long since I've been to one. Fleur and Bill's was the last one but I think everyone needs a good wedding."

Ginny smiled softly at Luna, a little laughter in her voice. "Nah, I don't think they're getting married just yet. Though give it a year and I'm sure." Suddenly her eyes darkened. "My brother may be thickheaded, but at least he know what he wants…unlike _other _blokes his age…"

Luna peered at her friend, watching the color rise in Ginny's face and it dawned on Luna: Ginny was angry.

"You're talking about Harry, aren't you?" Luna said, knowing before Ginny opened her mouth that it was the truth. In fact, if she was thinking clearly about it now, Luna supposed she should have realized Ginny's anger on the matter months before. Seldom did Ginny smile when Harry was brought up, and every time Ginny received a letter from Harry there were no smiles to go along with it, no giggles or even blushes; only stony glares and stiff crumples of the parchment into the fire.

Ginny sighed, looking at her friend, guarded for a minute. But then just as swiftly as the sigh that had escaped her lips, Ginny's barriers crumpled in front of Luna.

"I sometimes forget," Ginny started. "That although he is the savior of the Wizarding World, he's just a normal eighteen year old bloke. And he's going through a bloody hell of a mess right now, so I _know _the last thing he needs is a girlfriend, but still…"

Luna grinned gently at her friend, sad to see her upset and yet knowing that her worrying was quite futile. If anything was certain anymore, it was the fact that Harry Potter loved Ginny Weasley. Even though Harry and Ginny weren't technically together yet, Luna had no doubt in her mind that they would be soon enough. In her heart Luna wondered if a boy would ever love her like that, but decided it was best not to worry about things she had no control over.

"Don't be sad Ginny," Luna said. Ginny gave her a rather watery smile (but there were no tears—Luna was almost positive Ginny didn't even have tear ducts).

"You're right," Ginny said forcefully, taking a breath in and gripping her trunk. "It's Christmas holiday. But where the _hell _is my oaf of a big brother?"

As if on cue there came suddenly a very loud "OI!" as Luna and Ginny spun to their right to see Ron Weasley in all his ginger glory making his way toward them, hands stuffed into his pockets, adorning one of Mrs. Weasley's famous jumpers.

"We'd nearly given you up," Ginny told him, accepting his peck on the cheek. "Did you forget about us?"

"Bugger off," Ron said with a little smile, pulling way from the hug he had bestowed on Luna. Luna thought the Weasleys always gave the best hugs—even Ron who, she had to admit, could be a little negligent in the friendly department.

"As usual, it's a mad house at home," Ron was saying, as he pulled both Luna and Ginny's bags in each of his hands. "So that delayed my trip a bit."

Ginny groaned but Luna merely felt like smiling. Part of the reason she so eagerly accepted Ginny's invite to stay at the Burrow over winter holiday (apart from the fact her father was still in St. Mungo's and their house was currently still in its destroyed state) was that she was positively in love with the Burrow's chaotic state. It was unlike anything she was used to. Growing up with only Xenophilius for company made a lonesome, albeit eccentric, upbringing, but Luna preferred the warmth and crowded Burrow to almost anything else.

"Why is it mad at your home today?" Luna wondered aloud. Her breath danced in front of her and she could smell snow coming in the air. It was a lovely day.

Ron had a bemused smile on is face as he answered, "Percy."

Ginny quirked an eyebrow. "Percy?"

Nodding, Ron laughed a little, though Luna noticed the smile didn't really reach his eyes. "Never thought I'd say it about our stupid big brother, but Percy's created kind of a mess at home with all his experiments and whatnot."

Now Ginny looked as confused as Luna felt. Yet a bit of interest sparked itself inside of Luna.

"Experiments, you say?" Any kind of magical experiment always did interest her a great deal. While mostly the memory of her mother's death made her sad, it was also the most recent thing she could hold onto—her mother's love of magical experimentation grew a sense of pride within her that eclipsed the pain of her loss.

Ron nodded, his eyes a little dark. "Well ever since…you know, Fred—" he cut off thickly here. "Well Percy's made it his personal responsibility to keep the shop alive. George helps out a bit, but well, George hasn't really been himself—"

"Nor will he ever be," Ginny muttered darkly.

"But Percy's been keeping himself locked in his room all day and night trying out new products," Ron explained. "We never see him 'cept for meals. Normally I'd love the fact the bloke is hiding, but it's just…"

"Different," Luna finished. Ron shot her a grateful look then quickly changed the subject.

"Right," he said, leading them out of the train station. "So because of the death of our dear old Ford Anglia, rest in peace, looks like we'll be portkeying it home."

Immediately Luna lit, falling into stride beside the Weasley siblings as they made their way down a crowded London street.

"Oh, I do love using a port key," Luna said. "It's always the strangest sensation but I much prefer it to floo or even apparation. It always gives the sense of flying."

"Flying?" Ginny nearly snorted. "I _hate _using portkeys. I always feel like my middle is being cut off. I can't wait til I take my apparition test." She paused, chewing her lip for a minute and looked over at Ron. "Can't you sidelong apparate us? You've passed your test over a month ago."

Ron let out a snort, gesturing to his two hands which were currently laden with Luna and Ginny's holiday luggage. "You think I'd be able to apparate all this plus you two? Out of your mind, Gin. We'd end up splinched."

Ginny wasn't easily appeased. She just grumbled, shrugging her delicate shoulders. "I'd rather splinch than portkey."

Luna smiled a little at Ginny's annoyance. "Where are we getting the portkey, Ron?"

Ron looked a little grateful toward Luna as they made their way to a dingy alley, not far from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. The alley was secluded from any muggle that might be passing by, and Luna eyed an old boot that was in the center of the alley, its laces untied and sole sticking out like a little tongue. It made Luna grin a little. She always did have a soft spot for abandoned objects.

Even if they were merely old boots in dirty alleys.

"Right here actually," Ron said, nodding his head toward the little boot. "Dad got us all set up with this portkey. We shouldn't be seen or anything."

The three of them set themselves around the old boot, squeezing in close. It was a tight fit, what with both Luna and Ginny's luggage in both of Ron's arms, so he had to literally dip his chin down to the old boot whereas Luna and Ginny merely held the boot up between the two of their hands.

"And here we go," Ron said, just as Luna felt herself jerk forward. Within seconds the three of them were flying through what felt like some sort of time portal and then all of them were sprawled in the front lawn of the Burrow. The luggage had flown out of Ron's hands, spilling its contents open everywhere and the three of them landing in quite a tangled heap.

"Oi, Ron, get your leg _off _of me," came Ginny's muffled voice. Luna felt herself pinned beneath both Ginny and Ron. The cold of the grass was slowly seeping into the back of her skirt. For a moment she wished she'd put on jeans or long pants—her knit stockings weren't very warm at all. She felt herself shiver and thought of just how warm the Burrow was going to be.

Luna frowned a little as she surveyed the mess their portkeying had created. Ginny and Luna's clothes (including undergarments…most unfortunate) were spread all about the lawn and Luna felt a little blush creep up her neck as Ron expertly avoided his eyes, though she detect a bit of a smirk on his face.

"Like I said," said Ginny, going around and picking up her clothes as Luna did the same. "I _cannot _wait til I can bloody apparate. None of this nonsense."

Ron snorted. "With your luck instead of your jumpers spread about like this it'd be body parts."

Luna laughed a little then and Ron looked quite appreciative, while Ginny just threatened to Bat-Bogey Hex Ron a little early this year.

After they had picked up their clothes and restored them to their luggage, the trio made their way quickly into the Burrow and out of the cold weather. It really was a bitter winter, thought Luna. And it seemed to fit the mood of the Wizarding World perfectly, which happened to be most unfortunate but nevertheless true.

Luna tucked her long, white-blonde curls behind her ear as she took off her knit hat as Ron shut the door quickly behind them. Immediately she smiled, looking around the living room of the best house in England. Now, _this _is what a home should be. Everything was so gently messy and lived in and cozy and warm—all the little odds and ends, all the little touches that just spoke of love. It made Luna's heart clench for a moment as she remembered the terrible state of her own home and suddenly she felt abandoned.

But the feeling of sadness that ebbed throughout her vanished just as quickly as it appeared, for Mrs. Weasley had just bustled into the room upon hearing their arrival, showering them all with kisses (even Ron who she'd just seen prior to his meeting Luna and Ginny) and ushering them into the kitchen for a snack before dinner.

As Luna ate along with Ron and Ginny as Mrs. Weasley bustled about them, refilling their goblets with pumpkin juice and adding more butter to their toast, Luna couldn't help but feel love course throughout her. She could see the effects of the war all around them—in the way Mrs. Weasley's eyes were curiously shiny every time she looked at her children, or how she brushed Ron's bangs out of his eyes, or the way she looked thinner and more frail than Luna could ever remember, or even in the way she always made sure Luna had something on her plate—it was all of this care and love and sadness that made her realize there was never any way Voldemort could have ever won. Because a world devoid of such tenderness and even sadness—a world devoid of _family _and sweet tears and beauty in the form of a slightly shabby home with memories coursing about every inch—a world devoid of all of these things just simply could not exist. And Luna was quite glad she was part of this new world indeed.

-o-

George was very good at hiding.

For instance, he was excellent at hiding away from the hideous task of de-gnoming the garden. Whenever his mother would get that tone of voice and look in the eye that could only mean he was to be banished to the garden for a bit of gnome alleviation, George would swallow a Puking Pastille faster than you could say _"Obliviate!" _So while de-gnoming the garden _was_ a fantastic way of burning off pent up aggression, it was also a mindless task and George, over the years, had become simply wonderful at hiding from the chore.

George was also very good at hiding from his friends, who were loads easier to avoid than his family. It was a meticulous formula really, which in the beginning had been easy enough. Directly after the Battle of Hogwarts everyone had made their way (battered, beaten, exhausted) back to their families, and it was rare anyone spent a second apart from those they loved. And then slowly as careers needed to be tended to, the Ministry re-established, and students back to their education, life seemed to make some sort of sane semblance again.

Well, except for George really.

He still felt like half of a person. He still felt like a gaping hole was missing inside of him, still had trouble breathing and Merlin, he didn't remember the last time he'd been able to sleep through the night. And he _still _couldn't go back to his flat above the joke shop. Ginny and Hermione had been kind enough to get his clothes from his old home, since he'd been living in the Burrow for the last six months.

Yes, part of him felt like a coward. Part of him felt like a child, running from a nightmare that just wouldn't end. But then every time he'd spent more than a few hours in the joke shop, or woke up sweating in the middle of the night, he always felt like vomiting into oblivion.

His family had been great, of course. Ron and Percy had taken on the main brute of work at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. George, more or less, sulked around his room or the house, trying to avoid any kind of talk from _anyone. _

And that included his friends.

The thing was, hiding overlapped. So in George hiding from his friends he had to avoid such places as his flat, Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley, the joke shop—anywhere he'd risk the chance of running into them. It'd been _ages _since he'd seen Lee Jordan or Angelina Johnson—in the beginning they'd stopped by the Burrow or the flat but after seeing George in his shut down state, well perhaps it was simply too much for them.

It was too much for George anyway.

But in hiding from his friends he'd been forced to take residence up at the Burrow, which made hiding from his family a little bit difficult. For one—everyone knew he was here. For two—well, George was convinced he had the best family in all of England, possibly the _world. _And because they were the best family, well, they simply would not leave him alone. They'd force him to eat, Ginny _forced _him to read the paper so he was not completely out of reality, Mum _forced _him to get a haircut—all of these little forces indicated their love, although George would so much rather just be _a l o n e. _

So as he made his way tentatively down the staircase he silently prayed he wouldn't meet anyone on the way down to the kitchen. It was quite late in the afternoon—though he wasn't even sure what day it was. He'd heard two female voices earlier in the day, one belonging to his baby sister and another he didn't really recognize until somewhere in that muddled brain of his he remembered Mum telling him they'd invited Luna Lovegood for the Christmas holidays. Something about not having anywhere else to go, but George had barely been listening.

The Burrow was unusually quiet, save for the occasional BANG! that emitted from Percy's room several flights up. He made his way into the kitchen, wondering where his family was and he felt something thick twist around his heart as he poured himself a glass of water.

What was he becoming, exactly? What kind of horrible old bloke hid away from his family?

Hid away from himself?

There a noise as the back door closed and breathless laughter filled the kitchen. George looked up and immediately tensed at the intrusion of his brooding—Ginny and Luna had swept into the room, both looking rosy-cheeked and cheerful.

"George!" Ginny shrieked, literally hurling herself across the room and throwing her arms around his neck. For a minute he merely tensed, but reality slapped him hard on his back as he wrapped his arms around his little sister. He could feel her shaking and for a minute he just wanted to close his eyes because Ginny really did know how to take pain away, even if in the form of a hug.

He really had missed his baby sister.

"I think you might be suffocating me Gin," George joked, relieved when Ginny pulled back and swatted the back of his head playfully.

"I've been waiting to see you all day," she told him, and for a minute George had the horrible thought that she was going to cry. But then he realized _no_, this is Ginny, and honestly he didn't remember the last time she cried. Even at Fred's—well, even _then _all the Weasleys had kind of been in a numb state, hollowed out, just staring ahead as if zombies. Grief that deep didn't need tears to slice a hole straight into your body.

George offered her a grin before his eyes flicked over to Luna, who stood a few feet away, her large blue eyes focused on the ceiling. She had a soft smile on her face and he remembered her nickname from school—'Loony Lovegood' and thought it really did fit her wonderfully.

"Hello George." Luna's airy voice drifted over to him as her eyes met his own. She smiled serenely and for a moment George was calmer than he could ever have thought possible. His breath even began to slow and he nodded lightly back.

"Hi Luna. What are you girls so giggly about?" George asked, taking a swig from his water as he leaned against the counter. Immediately Luna's eyes lit up.

Her smile never faltered. George thought it was the most gentle expression on a face he'd ever seen. Quite refreshing, really, when you thought about it. A genuine smile.

Lord knows it'd been a long time since he'd seen one of those.

"It's snowing out," Luna said happily. She grinned warmly at Ginny, who laughed.

"It is, George," Ginny said, laughter still in her voice, though her happiness, George noted, didn't do a very good job reaching her eyes. So that's how it was with all of them, huh? All of them just skimming the surface of happiness, of laughter, of joy when really there was always that ebb and flow of pain and horror and that blasted memory of that battle—

No. He needed to stop or he'd start hyperventilating or something. He'd gotten so good at hiding his emotions these past six months that it took less than five seconds for him to plaster a fake grin on his face as Luna started chattering about a snowman and firelight and something his mind really couldn't wrap around.

"And Hermione and Ron are helping as well," Luna was saying, her voice as smooth as ever.

George quirked an eyebrow, wishing he'd been listening instead of internally brooding the way he was so apt to do.

He cleared his throat. "Erm…what?"

Luna offered him a little smile as she gathered her long blonde curls into her hand, where George noticed there were tiny snowflakes sprinkled.

"With our snow man," she told him, her head flicking over to the door through which both girls had just come from.

"Hermione arrived a little more than an hour ago," Ginny explained, her eyes boring into George's. She'd kill him if he ever said it aloud, but Ginny was more like their mum than she cared to know. The way she was looking at him—well, it was quite violating indeed.

"You're making a snowman, are you?" George questioned, suddenly wanting nothing more than to go crawl back under his covers. He couldn't really enjoy simple pleasures like _snowman. _Because making a snowman would make him smile and then that damn guilt would settle back in his bones.

Because no matter how he looked at it, George wished _he_ was the one buried six feet under and not Fred.

Not his best friend.

Not his brother.

Not his other half. (Better half, if he was being honest.)

"We were just coming in to get him a proper scarf," Luna explained, walking over to a chair at the dining table. George watched curiously as she opened a bag (presumably hers) that was slung across a chair. "This will do!" She said, happily taking her own scarf out of the bag and beaming at George and Ginny.

"It's lovely Luna," Ginny said, smiling as she watched her blonde friend bounce out the back door. Before the door swung closed George could hear the muffled shriek of Hermione as Ron pelted her with a snowball.

And then George was left in the kitchen of the Burrow with his little sister. He eyed Ginny wearily.

"You're going to make me bald by staring at me like that, you are," he muttered, quirking an eyebrow in her direction.

Ginny frowned, but didn't back down. In fact, it almost looked like she was _glaring _at him…but not necessarily in a harsh way. It was in her Ginny way…that fiery, intimidating, slightly scary way of hers.

"Stop hiding George," she told him firmly.

George looked into the cup he held into his hand. "No idea what you mean."

Ginny just gave him a look before tugging gently on his ear. And then she was out the back door, back to snowman and laughter and everything George wanted to just swear off for the rest of his life.

Because the truth of the matter was he just didn't have it in him to smile anymore. As he trudged his way back up the steps to his bedroom he couldn't help but hide for the rest of the evening. Hiding – though cowardly – at least dulled the pain inside of him a little.

Closing his eyes as he drifted off into a slumber, the last image George had was of swirling snow, long blonde curls and a smiling twin whom he'd never, ever see again.

Yes, he decided in his slumber induced haze, hiding was plenty good indeed.


End file.
